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For long moments, I simply coach myself to breathe. It’s all my brain can handle. Slowly, I review everything Sylas told me as I peek at him from the corner of my eye. I wish that the next time I look at him, he’ll just be a normal human guy sitting on the couch—albeit a couch he’s dragged in front of the door to keep me from escaping. No such luck. He’s still a… monster.
The way he described it, the other women elected to be here, yet if they try to leave before their term of service is up, they’ll be jailed. If the military are willing to treat female volunteers that way, it seems certain they’ll be at least as harsh with me.
“You’re sure there aren’t any other alternatives?” I ask, trying to keep my gaze away from both the bed and him. Keeping my gaze down, I focus on the gray tile grout.
“I’m positive.”
At least he has the good sense to sound contrite.
“I’ll stay here with you and promise not to run.” I pause because although I hate to lie, if the opportunity arises, I’ll crawl under that fence, climb into my car, and floor it.
When I glance at him, he looks relieved. Nodding, he says, “That will be for the best, Cally. As soon as you’ve spent some time with me and haven’t run or tried to hurt me, I’ll inform Colonel Slater. After I vouch for you and show him you haven’t broken any rules, I’m sure he’ll give you free rein as long as you stay within the fenced boundaries. It won’t be terrible. Actually, it’s kind of peaceful here.”
Okay. Maybe he’s right. I’ve got Tater. Sylas doesn’t seem so bad. He hasn’t given me any pervy vibes. I can write the verbiage for some of the pictures I’ve already taken and keep forging ahead on my book. I didn’t ask for this, but maybe I can make lemonade out of lemons.
“There’s, uh… one more thing.” His voice is low and hesitant.
Damn it. Just when I’d decided I might be able to tolerate this intolerable situation. Now he’s going to hit me with the next shitty thing. By the way he’s stalling, it’s going to be a doozy. Even Tater is standing at attention, a soft growl building in the back of his throat.
“There’s only this one house, er, Quonset hut. And I can’t leave you alone. I’d be an idiot to trust you so soon after laying all of this on you.”
“Spit it out!”
“We have to share this house, Cally, and I’m in rut.”
“In a rut?” Is he sharing his quarter-life crisis with me? Sorry to say, I don’t really give a shit about what’s bothering him right now. I’m the one whose life just got derailed.
“Not in a rut. I’m in rut, Cally. I have a boatload of elk DNA and it makes me go into rut every fall. It’s never hit me like this before.” He’s babbling, words spilling from his lips without pause. “Maybe it’s because I can smell the women from ten miles away on the other side of the property, but my rut has hit me like a freight train.”
Am I giving him the impression I don’t understand? Is that why he feels compelled to give a visual demonstration? He widens his legs and dips his chin toward his crotch. Don’t blame me that I follow the non-verbal instruction and gaze between his legs.
As though his rack of antlers and bushy tail and the furry bottom half of his body hadn’t telegraphed just how non-human he is, here, here is proof of just how other he is. Because whatever is pulsing beneath those mundane khaki shorts is not of this world.
“Rut,” I repeat, as though I’m in a hypnotic trance. “You’re in a heightened state of…” I’m casting about for a synonym for lust that won’t cause elk-man to lose his tenuous hold on his self-control and leap the distance between us.
“Arousal.” He finishes my sentence for me. “Yes. That’s why I was on my way to this cabin—to be alone with my… urges.”
Chapter Eight
Sylas
Having a nose that’s ten thousand times more sensitive than humans doesn’t just mean I can smell predators to protect myself. It means I can smell emotions. Since I just met my first female and have been preoccupied since Cally came around the bend to find her four-legged beast threatening me, I haven’t had a lot of time to parse through her emotions. But this emotion? It comes through quite potently.
Fear.
“It’s overwhelming, Cally, but I think I can maintain control.”
“Think? That’s not reassuring. Besides, you said it’s never been this powerful before.”
“True. But although I was trained for aggression, that’s not really who I am.”
“Trained for aggression?”
Shit. I don’t believe I mentioned that before. Now she’s even more terrified.
“Perhaps I failed to mention they bred us to be supersoldiers?”
“No.” Her lips bunch so tightly together, for a moment I can’t see any of those fascinating lush, pink lips. “No. That little factoid would have registered, if you had mentioned it.” She clutches Tater close and mumbles, “Supersoldier. Dear God.”
